A Timeless Reunion
by psquare
Summary: [Oneshot] Sometimes, when the present gets unbearable, there is always the past, to nudge you towards a brighter future... [Mirokucentric, with hints of MirSan]


_**Miroku**_

Sometimes, I could see him.

Sometimes, when the swirling black whirlwind that threw up eye-scorching dust cleared, when the harsh cold wind that turned my tears into fragile icicles let up, when the restraining hands went lax, when my violent struggles ceased… I could see him. I could see him as the vortex of a terrible dark hurricane, slowly excruciatingly, pulling him into its void. I could see the lines of pain on his face, the tears that ran down his cheeks, his tousled hair flapping uselessly.

My father.

Just when I am about to hear the agonised scream ripping from his throat as the void sucks him in his entirety, a blinding light obscures all vision once more, and I…

I would wake up.

I would gasp, and I would stare around me, blinking in the sunlight. Stare at my friends, stare at complete normalcy… and I would chide myself for falling into the clutches of my nightmares once again. And somehow, even though I dreaded the memories of witnessing my father's violent death, I would, in a deep, hidden part of my soul, wish to see it again. Just to see his face, once again…

This sequence of events has become such a routine these days, that I am almost ready to claim that they are an integral part of my life.

I wonder if I would feel the same way when I lose the black hole. Would I feel as if something dear to me – a part of my very _existence_ – has been taken away from me? Would I miss the guilty pleasure of watching demons perish by the millions, as even their most powerful attacks are unable to stop them from being crushed to particles smaller than even atoms? Would I miss the feeling of being intimidating, powerful, _important_ – all of which the black hole has given me? The righteous part of my soul shudders to even _consider_ these questions – after all, the goal of my entire life is to get rid of my family curse. But the more sensible part says…

Perhaps.

I shudder with an unspeakable dread then, and my cold staff – which I have hugged to my chest – brushes against the sensitive skin of my face, bringing me out of my spiralling contemplation. I open my eyes to the sunshine, the bright light instantly opening up a panorama of images around me – Inu Yasha and Kagome arguing, Sango hefting the Hiraikotsu onto her back in readiness, Shippo watching the argument with self-righteous shakes of the head, Kirara purring gently against her mistress… all this brings a smile to my face, and I scold myself for sinking into such despondency. I shouldn't be thinking about the black hole, now.

I have better things to do.

Rising to my feet – slightly leaning on the staff for support – I walk forward a few steps, smiling. Feeling that strange buoyancy that always occurs at the discovery of new hope in the deepest depths of despair, I speak, my voice light and carefree. "Well then, everybody, shall we resume our journey?"

Inu Yasha, breaking out of the argument, looks at me with something akin to relief on his face. "_Finally_," he says. "Somebody _does_ have sense around here…"

"What was _that_ supposed to mean?" Kagome snaps, scowling fiercely.

"Tch." Inu Yasha smirks. "Didn't expect you to figure it out, you…" He doesn't get a chance to complete whatever insult he had intended for Kagome, as her subjugation command, effectively has him – what would Shippo call it? Ah – _eating dust_. Our laughter then drowning out Inu Yasha's increasingly half-hearted grumbles, we proceed on our journey once again.

It is like any other day in the Feudal Era – one experiences it so many times that one gets tired of describing it – but the air tingles with some strange energy. It starts as mildly irritating – almost like a playful tickle – but soon builds up into a crescendo that has the little hairs on the back of my neck standing stiff and straight. I stop then, as do the rest of the group, frowning.

"It's almost like static electricity…" Kagome says, but I have no clue as to what that means. Some kind of spell, perhaps?

Before any of us can respond to her, a sharply rank smell rents the air, making Inu Yasha and Shippo immediately hold their noses and cough. "Smells… smells like something is burning…" Inu Yasha manages.

"I agree," Sango says, her voice muffled through the mask she has thoughtfully placed around her nose and mouth. "I think we should go see what it is."

She starts forward, but Kagome's voice stops her. "Wait, Sango!" she says. "Wait for us – we don't what the group separated… in… _this_…"

I can see what she means, for copious amounts of pitch-black smoke has started to emanate from somewhere, almost completely obscuring vision, and bringing tears to tortured eyes. Soon, we can't even see two feet ahead of us, much less the source of the smoke. While Kagome, the others and I start coughing uncontrollably, I can hear the sounds of Sango turning and walking away, her muffled voice sounding faintly, "I will come back."

_No._ My spine prickling with some intractable dread, I run forward into the smoky fog, risking breathing in more smoke as I call out Sango's name desperately. Soon smoke is all around me, _within_ me, and I sink to my knees, my lungs burning with the desire for fresh air. Burying my face in the sleeve of my robe, I cough violently, feeling decidedly light-headed. _Oh great_, I think. _At least I don't have to worry about the black hole, anymore…_

The words 'black hole' seems to be some kind of magic charm, for as soon as I think of it, the smoke disperses, the amounts of fresh air suddenly entering my gasping mouth causing another kind of light-headedness. My fingers, splayed on the ground, feel the cool touch of dew-drenched grass, and I slowly lift my head, opening my eyes.

I could've collapsed with relief.

Everything is normal around me – the sun is shining brightly once again, nothing seems to be burning, and most important of all – Sango stands a few meters in front of me, completely unscathed, _safe_. Her mask is removed, and she is looking at me with concern shining in her deep brown eyes. Smiling, I rise. "Ah, Sango," I say. "It is indeed a relief to see you safe…"

She nods, though a troubled frown mars the tranquil beauty of her face. "Where _was_ that smoke coming from?" she asks. "I don't see any fire, nor do I see the remains of any…" She sighs. "And worst of all, I can't see the others _anywhere_. What do you think just happened?"

I shrug helplessly, though inside I find myself rejoicing. _Sango and I together…** alone**?_ "Believe me when I say 'I don't know', Sango, because it's true." I smile at her in what I hope is a reassuring manner. "But there always exists the possibility that we have been separated, thanks to all that smoke. We _could_ endeavour to find the others, before trying to figure out the cause of the formless fire…"

Sango nods. "Alright." Then suddenly her eyes narrow, and she looks sharply at me. "But don't try anything funny, okay?"

I put on an exaggerated show of innocence. "Come, now, Sango – surely, you think better of me than that?"

A rueful smile crosses her lips. "I don't know what to think around you, anymore." With what I think – maybe hope – is a small blush, she turns and starts walking briskly. I run to catch up with her, mulling over what she had said. _Don't know what to think around you anymore…_ Hah! I have always _known_ my irresistible charm would work on her some time or the other…

With these happy thoughts warming me from the inside, I walk with her, content for the moment with just her companionship.

However, these happy thoughts soon fade into worry and trouble, as a two-hour thorough search of the surrounding area ends fruitless. Sango looks worried enough to fist her knuckles into a nearby tree, and I knot my brow. We had yelled our throats hoarse, only to have scared forest animals respond to our desperate calls. Even if Kagome can't hear us, she has at least two demons – and a half-demon – with her who possess acute auditory senses. Nothing adds up… Finally, one has to admit that the fact was impossible to get around:

The others have, put quite simply, _vanished_.

"I probably should've never set off on my own," Sango repents. "I don't even have Kirara with me now…"

A hurt expression slides onto my face. "Hey, I'm here, you know."

To my surprise, instead of coming back with a sharp retort, she smiles. "Yes, and I'm glad."

Just when I start to think that this whole experience might be a dream – and a very wonderful dream at that – my back prickles with the sensation of a demonic aura close by – and approaching fast. Sango seems to have sensed it too, for she tenses her body and moves into a defensive position, one wary hand on the handle of the Hiraikotsu. My staff jingles as I join her in the tense moment, both of us straining all our senses to gauge the approach the oncoming demon. Suddenly, the foliage rustles, and within the blink of an eye, it is torn apart as two figures emerge. One of those figures is a human – in flowing robes and clutching a long, glinting staff – but the one chasing the human is what captures the attention of Sango and me – a demon.

Hefting the Hiraikotsu off her back with a grunt, Sango flings the great boomerang in a calculated, deadly arc at the tall, gruesome monstrosity. The monster stops and stares at the oncoming weapon, seemingly unaware that its body was soon going to lie in two pieces. I ready myself to pray for the demon's soul, when the Hiraikotsu cleaves cleanly through the demon…

… leaving it absolutely unscathed.

Hiraikotsu returns to Sango's outstretched hand, and her wide eyes inspect the wooden weapon. No blood, not even a scratch.

The weapon had passed _right through_ the demon!

Shaken, Sango raises her surprised gaze to my confused ones, and the unspoken question hovers in the air, like the energy Kagome had described as 'static electricity'.

The human, whom we had ignored till now, gives a low whistle. "That is unusual," he says. "But incompetence is only to be expected from those who are not professionals." Sango and I scowl, not willing to give the man even the respect of looking him in the eye. Incompetence, indeed!

"Now, stand back," the human says, and we hear a jingle and a thud as he wedges his staff into the ground. "Leave everything to those who actually _know_ how to deal with it." There is something infinitely strange, yet familiar about that voice, and out of sheer curiosity, I look to the man, and immediately my heart jumps to my throat.

The man stands in front of the snarling demon, right hand outstretched, covered with a rosary of sacred beads much like mine. Sango's gaze soon joins my dumbfounded one as the man removes the beads surrounding his gloved hand, and a strong wind blows as a black hole opens up in his exposed palm.

A black hole!

The demon makes futile attempts at anchoring itself to a nearby tree, but soon it is sucked into the unrelenting void. The demon thus disposed of, the man straightens himself with a smile, and reseals his black hole. Turning to us, his smile widens. "I hope you two have learnt a lesson today."

Sango and I are too surprised to retort at the man's rudeness. My eyes trace his features – right from long, shiny black hair tied back into a ponytail, long flowing green monk's robes, intelligent indigo eyes gleaming at us, and the rosary of sacred beads sealing his cursed palm.

This man is just about my replica.

The man's eyes widen too, as he notices my appearance, and thick silence reigns for a few moments – or maybe a few centuries, as it seems to my surprise-numbed senses – before it is finally broken by Sango. "Are you… are you related to Miroku?" she asks haltingly.

The man cocks his head. "Miroku? I know of no such person." His eyes flit to my gloved hand. "But I can see you are in the same predicament as I." Raising his arm, he gestures to the distance. "Perhaps we could retreat to my temporary shelter to talk."

More than willing to do just that, Sango and I acquiesce. We trudge up the hill, following this doppelganger of mine to a rickety wooden shack, tucked away beneath an outcrop of rock. Pulling aside the tattered screen in the doorway, he enters, beckoning for us to do the same. Sango and I enter the single-roomed, dusty shack, as the man hastily lays out three tattered, moth-eaten mats for us to sit upon. We do so, and he joins us with an apologetic smile. "I know it's not much, but this is just an old woodcutter's cottage I chanced upon while trying to find shelter from last night's storm." He bows to Sango, taking her hand in his gently. "I feel bad for causing such beautiful young ladies such discomfort…"

Veins bulge in my head, and I scowl, as Sango blushes like she has never blushed for me. "Why, it's – it's quite al-alright, really," she stammers. "I am indeed grateful for the hospitality that you've already shown us…"

She does not make effort to pull her hand away.

Really annoyed now, I clear my throat, but the monk does not notice. He frowns at Sango's pale hand encased within his own. "Your hands are incredibly light, my lady; in fact, I can't even feel them."

Puzzled, Sango shifts her hand in his grip, and immediately the three of us gasp. Her hand slips right through his hands – through layers of skin, muscles, flesh, blood, bone – with absolutely no resistance. Shaken, Sango quickly pulls her hand away. Panicked thoughts chase one another in a whirlwind of chaos in my head, as I contemplate the possibilities of us being dead. Had we been killed by that smoke? Had we returned to the world as wandering spirits? But no, it cannot be, for the same had happened to the Hiraikotsu as well, and weapons can't die…

The man looks at his hand as if they might sprout tentacles any moment, and then uses the same expression on us. "We had better discuss this," he says warily.

"That's right," I say, before Sango can even open her mouth. "I am Miroku, a wandering monk, and this is my… friend, Sango, a demon-slayer."

The man smiles, his attention once again focused on Sango. "I _knew_ that such bravery, and sheer _dash_ could only come from a great demon-slayer…" Sango smiles back at him, colour rising to her cheeks. "Thank you…"

I clear my throat vehemently this time, forcing the monk's attention back onto me. "And you would be…?"

The man draws himself proudly, his indigo eyes sparkling. "I am Miyatsu, a wandering monk like yourself, and a loyal servant of Buddha… what's the matter?" Concern enters his eyes in a flash, for my jaw had just dropped open in utmost shock.

_Miyatsu…_ No, it cannot be! Memories of the dark whirlwinds that plague my dreams rush into my head, and the world seems to spin around the vortex I had become. Sango calls my name in concern, but I pay no heed. _Miyatsu…_ Could it possibly _be_…?

"What is the matter?" Miyatsu repeats, an incisive edge now entering his voice. "Why does the mention of my name cause such surprise within you?"

_Surprise…? You… you have no **idea**_...

Sango shakes my shoulder. "Get a grip, Miroku!" she says. "Do _tell_ whatever has you so shocked, for Buddha's sake!"

I blink at her, looking into her eyes, and beyond them. "Miyatsu," I say slowly, stressing every syllable, "was my father."

Sango recoils as if she had just pricked her hand against a bed of thorns. Her gaze shifts to Miyatsu. "Your… your father…?"

To both of our surprise, Miyatsu chuckles. "I should've guessed as much earlier."

"What do you mean?"

A thoughtful expression settles on his face. "I was already sensing a strangely familiar aura from you, and there is also the curse in your right hand to consider." He smiles. "I know of only one monk dynasty that carries that curse, Miroku." His eyes soften. "My son."

A knot forms within my throat, and I find myself tongue-tied. My father is sitting right in front of me, a young man in his prime. The father I had so desperately wanted to see again all my life, and yet, now, as he sits in front of me, I have no words to say – none at all, choked with emotion as I am. Sango relieves me from the burden of speaking. "But how did we get back in time – in our spiritual forms? Are we dead?"

Miyatsu shrugs again. "I cannot say for sure. But you should be going back to your own bodies in your own time – that's for certain. Whether to take your last breath, or to continue on with your lives, I cannot say."

"Inu Yasha and Kagome will find us," I mumble in blind faith. For what purpose had the both of us come to this time then? The smoke that had suffocated us had not been of natural cause; something – or some_one –_ had deliberately caused this meeting to happen. What goal did this… _being_… yearn to achieve through this? What is the purpose?

Why?

Miyatsu's soft voice brings me out of my thoughts. "I see that most of the looks – if not the charm – has passed onto the next generation, hmmm?" Despite my confusion and panic, I scowl at this juncture. No charm, he says. Well…! "And also, I see," he continues, now a heavy sadness in his voice, "that you have received the one heirloom that I never wanted any of my descendants to receive…" Knowing that he is referring to the black hole, my eyes droop, and a sigh escapes my lips of its own accord. Miyatsu chuckles once again – sadly, resignedly.

"I know it is a great burden to bear, Miroku," he says. "Especially when I will not be there by your side to help you through. _But­_ –" He gestures briefly to Sango "– _but_, with friends like these, and, judging from the words you spoke earlier, other companions, too, you can defeat Naraku – I know it."

He shifts himself on the mat, his pleasant smile widening. "I'm sure you must have heard that quite a lot by now, and you must have realised it well enough yourself, too – but it is out of experience I say now, Miroku – never allow yourself to be lonely. For it is the pain and fear you experience alone that makes you a Walking Corpse, that makes death by the black hole seem merciful."

The words ring true in my ears, made all the more emphatic, coming as they were from the very lips of my father. Being with my friends has revolutionised my life in more ways than I could begin to count – being with them increases the probability of finding – and killing – Naraku manifold, being with them has taught me the priceless lessons of love, friendship, joy, sacrifice… and I know I have come out a better man through it all.

"You must not blame the obvious… family _trait_… that got us into this predicament in the first place." Miyatsu smirks. "Instead, treasure it. For it may be your only path to salvation when you know you have not much time to live…"

I find myself smirking along with him. "Which is, _all_ the time…" Just then, a particularly bulky wooden boomerang being hit upon my head by the particularly strong hands of a particularly angry woman by my side interrupts me. Stars spin around my head for a few moments, and I laugh uneasily. "_San_go…"

Miyatsu laughs heartily. "You have much yet to learn, my boy." His gaze finally locks with mine, and mine alone (I did see it wandering to Sango's rear earlier). "Make you sure you live long enough to learn it all."

I meet his suddenly-intensified gaze steadily, reflecting mirrors of indigo shining with numerous emotions. "I will – father." Somehow, just saying the word births within me newfound confidence, and strength. "I will defeat Naraku, and I will avenge our family." I hold up my cursed right hand. "This curse will never blight the hands of the succeeding generations of this family – of that, I assure you."

Miyatsu nods, and – to my great surprise – tears form in his eyes. "I know that you will. I – I'm very proud of you, son."

The words seem to trigger a sun-flare within my chest – a timeless supernova breaking down all egoistic barriers of adulthood, kindling a proto-star of overpowering emotions that I had not felt in their entirety since childhood. Without even really thinking about it, I move forward and wrap my arms around Miyatsu – my _father_ – to hold him in an embrace, pouring in all the powerful emotion that I felt just then, into my spiritual self, to make the embrace as real and tangible as possible. To my delight, his arms slowly come up to return my embrace. Sango remains at a respectable distance, watching us quietly.

"I'm – I'm glad you came, son," Miyatsu says, his voice suddenly choked. "I don't know why, or how, but… I'm glad."

I tighten the embrace. "The very same here, Father… the very same."

Miyatsu's voice suddenly dips even lower, assuming an unprecedented playful tone. "And Congratulations, Miroku – you have found a classic beauty of a woman… and she loves you, yes?"

I can't help let a smile form on my face. "Hopefully, Father, but I'm not sure how ready I'll be _if_ she ever confesses."

"One of our family is _always_ ready, Miroku." Smiling, the both of us break the embrace. "It is time now for you to return, Miroku and Sango," Miyatsu says. "Return and live well – and may your children make your proud."

An eyebrow of Sango's raises sceptically at that last statement, but before she can protest, we feel the smoky, 'static electricity' aura rising around us, and filling us once again. Before the smoke obscures everything, I gaze at my father one last time. "Farewell," I say.

He smiles. "Farewell, my son."

Then the smoke prevents me from seeing anything else, throwing Sango and I into the clutches of a deep, deep darkness… before the sound of loud voices stops the whirlwind of darkness we are falling through.

"Hey, I think he _is_ alive!"

Frowning slightly, I slowly open my eyes…

… to immediately gaze into eyes of the brightest amber I had ever seen.

Uttering a small cry, I grab my staff from my side and bring it down upon whoever is bending upon me – and Inu Yasha's annoyed shout rented the air. "Ow! What d'you do _that_ for, Miroku?"

_Just Inu Yasha._ Relief floods my soul, mixed with a little trepidation that this is an _annoyed_ Inu Yasha that I face.

"I'm sorry, Inu Yasha," I say, slowly rising to my feet. "I thought you were something else."

While he mutters sullenly, "You would," I look to my side to see Sango stir, open her eyes, and finally get up. She blinks slowly, gazing at the campfire burning in the middle of the clearing in which camp is set, and then at Inu Yasha and the others. Finally her gaze rests upon me. "Was that… all a dream?"

"I don't think so." I look to Kagome, who has a wide smile of relief on her face. "What happened?"

Kagome speaks. "Well, not long after you and Sango disappeared, the smoke dissipated – and everything was alright again – we could find no source of the smoke. The only problem that remained was that you two were missing.

"After some searching, Inu Yasha found you quite some distance lying unconscious on the ground. It had seemed you had suffocated in the smoke – even Sango's mask was off. He brought you back here, and you've been asleep ever since – it must've been at least six hours since we found you." She shudders. "We were _so_ worried when you didn't wake up, despite all the first-aid I did…"

Sango smiles reassuringly at her. "Don't worry, Kagome, the two of us are perfectly alright now."

"That's right," I agree. "And a considerably more enlightened…"

Kagome and the other look at me in confusion, but I refuse to elaborate. Kagome shrugs and returns to preparing dinner, with Shippo helping her, and Inu Yasha bounds to the top of the nearest tree. I join Sango in sitting by the campfire, and the two of us gaze onto the flames. Finally, I speak.

"That was quite an experience, wasn't it?"

Sango nods. "It must've been wonderful, meeting your father."

"Yes – though the meeting had a share of its 'painful', too, though."

"But meeting him _has_ changed you, hasn't it?" She turns to look at me. "Hasn't it?"

I smile gently at her, taking her pale hands in mine. "No," I say. "I haven't changed. Let's say the meeting only reaffirmed what I already believed in – a reminder."

I squeeze her hands gently.

"A timeless reunion."

**_Finis_**

* * *

**_A/N:_** I realise that, according to the movies, it was Miroku's grandfather who was called Miyatsu, but for the sake of this story, let's just alter that, eh? 


End file.
